Awaken
by Escaping Gravity
Summary: Seven is cornered, and Janeway is in for a surprise.


**Title:** Awaken

Seven is cornered, and Janeway is in for a surprise.

**A/N:** Inspired in part by SHINee's "Lucifer" and 지선's "이별 못 한 이별" (~"Farewell Without Farewell," JiSeon). Neither are really lyrically relevant or remotely similar, but somehow they both helped set the mood. The verses quoted at the end are from JES's "Awaken," and provide the title for the story. :)

**A/N2:** Just in case you missed it, this story is gay. Not gay as in terrible, gay as in GAY. If you mistakenly came here, you can still escape the abomination that is love beyond gender and sex; hit the back button.

_Her whisper is the Lucifer._

**=A=**

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><p><strong>=A=<strong>

Seven's head snapped up.

"Get him out of here! Get him down!" she yelled, picking herself up off the dirty stone and taking position once again.

Arrows whizzed past her—they were close, but she wasn't sure how close. She could only hear the faint whisper of air as they darted by. Cautiously rising, she glanced over the edge to scout the sieging army's movements, and then sunk back down to take a breath.

Two of hers were struggling to pull the wounded archer down the stairs. She called a third over to help them.

Thankfully, the men around her were hardened warriors who knew how and when to take cover behind the parapet walls. Although their faces were expressionless, experience wasn't fooled; fear was buried in each of their stomachs. These men were constantly aware of the fact that they could die in an instant—or slowly and painfully, as was often the case. Death slipped in and out of the battle regardless.

Dirty, bloody, and exhausted, she motioned to her second. As he made his way over and crouched at her side, she thought quickly.

"Take over. I need to relay a message down at the gate."

He nodded mutely, unaffected. She had chosen him for precisely this quality; his focus was admirable and he rarely, if ever, was ruffled by sudden changes in plan. Her group would be in good hands.

The injured man was still being pulled down the stairs to her right, so she prepared to make a longer trek down the parapet to access another stairway. Seven kept her head carefully below the stone and took the stairs a few at a time.

Armor dug into her skin as she dodged fallen men and women, stray weapons, overturned stones, castle rubble, and random tools strewn about. The chafing was a familiar feeling, but still grating. She gritted her teeth and pushed harder to reach the archway. It was imperative that she warn her battalion commander of the impending offensive directed at the gate, and lend her services if necessary.

Seven had nearly arrived when the program abruptly shifted out of existence.

She stopped, stunned for a moment. Harsh light replaced the dusk of the battle, causing her to blink against the brightness.

"Seven," a voice called from behind her. Recognizing it, she whirled around.

"Captain. Do you require my assistance?"

The smaller woman gave her a stern look and took a few steps forward.

"Yes. Assist me in understanding why you were running this type of program without the safeties on."

She met Janeway's gaze. "I find that it enhances the experience," she began, "and I was unaware that I was being watched." The quietness in her voice effectively communicated her irritation.

The Captain frowned at this. "I came to talk to you about the Doctor's observations," she explained, moving her hands to her hips. "He informed me that you've been experiencing an unusual amount of stress level recently. Care to comment?"

Seven nearly rolled her eyes and only barely managed to refrain from doing so—a surprisingly human reaction, she noticed.

"The Doctor is overreacting," she declared, matter-of-factly.

"Not according to the data he showed me," Janeway countered.

The taller woman was silent, looking away from her superior. Her gym clothes clung to the sweat and blood covering her body, creating an unpleasant sensation on her skin. Her cuts had started to sting.

"Is there something bothering you, Seven?"

Seven simply shook her head without directly meeting the Captain's eyes, preoccupied with the annoying idea of having to visit the Doctor to receive treatment for her wounds. And with escaping from Janeway as quickly as possible, because she was the source of the stress in the first place.

"Then I need you to stop engaging in reckless behavior. Is that understood?" Janeway's gaze was piercing. It reminded Seven of a hot needle.

"Yes, Captain. I'll report to the Doctor for treatment," she acknowledged, staring at the other woman to emphasize her sincerity. "I assure you that nothing is wrong."

"Good." Janeway's eyes followed Seven as she walked out, not at all convinced that her Astrometrics officer was telling the truth.

**=A=**

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"Seven, you simply cannot continue with these kinds of activities. They are aggravating your symptoms rather than curing them," the Doctor chided her, running a tricorder across her body. "Dare I ask why you joined a war during such a barbaric age in human history?"

Seven bit back an acidic retort. "I find that period of history interesting."

"Interesting if you want to be maimed by an appalling variety of weapons and afflicted with horrifying diseases," he snorted. The tricorder snapped closed. He looked on at Seven with a patronizing eye. "I'm surprised you're not missing an appendage."

The Doctor looked as if he would comment further, and then wisely decided not to.

"Lucky for you, I can fix this entire mess with a dermal regenerator," he muttered.

By only the faintest of margins did she avoid striking his face to remove the arrogant expression on it. Anger boiled in her chest; she could not handle any more admonishments for today. Her entire body was awash in an unpleasant volatility.

Belatedly, she realized that he was a hologram. It was impossible to strike or remove anything from his face…he didn't have one.

She let him do his work in silence, defeated.

**=A=**

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><p><strong>=A=<strong>

Janeway took her time in the corridors, thinking over what she had seen and how best to deal with a reticent Seven of Nine.

On first sight, she'd almost had a heart attack. Blood was spattered all over Seven's skin and armor, her face barely recognizable. In fact, the only reason she'd known it was Seven at all was because she'd spoken.

She must have been some kind of captain or commander, the way she was ordering people around. Men nearby scurried to do what she asked. They obviously respected her and fed on her intensity. While Janeway had observed, Seven's armor shone faintly in the fading light, lending her a nobility she did not possess aboard _Voyager_. She watched as Seven ran down the parapet, heading towards the battle.

It was at that moment that Janeway had snapped to her senses and ended the program immediately. Before Seven could get herself killed.

Seven was left standing in the same confident stance she'd assumed while fighting, despite being caught off-guard. Even as the armor shimmered off, her fearlessness filled the room. Janeway had been silent for a moment—slightly awestruck, if she could admit to being so.

And then her eyes fell on the large gash across her back. She couldn't help the harshness that crept into her voice when she called to Seven.

She worried about the younger woman…despite her protests, Janeway knew Seven well enough to intuit that she was dealing with something very painful and personal. That no one aboard knew what was troubling her was revealing in itself. The Captain's only conclusion could be that no one was close enough to confide the problem to.

It was difficult to think about that. Considering the beginning of their journey, when they had violently butted heads at every opportunity, their relationship had become remarkably close. Close enough to have late-night conversations about meaningful, profound questions. Tough questions. The kinds of questions she rarely talked to anyone aboard about, save for perhaps Chakotay. What could be troubling Seven so deeply that she would not share?

In the Holodeck she'd picked up on the frustration in her eyes as she looked away, the…

What was it?

Sadness? Pain?

In spite of the grime and blood masking her face, there had been something fragile about her expression. It was softened with an emotion Janeway couldn't identify. Whether it truly was pain, and whether that was physical pain or some other kind of pain, she didn't know.

Janeway found herself reacting anyways, reaching back in her mind to somehow correct the expression. She could not, naturally, but the impulse to do it dogged her to her quarters. It should have been the latest in a long line of warnings…but like all of the others, her mind never registered it.

**=A=**

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><p><strong>=A=<strong>

One week later, still irritated by the Doctor's nagging, Seven stuck to her resolve to keep busy in Astrometrics and Cargo Bay 2. She meticulously logged each of her reconfigurations, upgrades, and repairs in her reports, hoping Janeway would notice that the only reckless behavior she was engaging in was diligently improving the efficiency of her space. This same diligence also, of course, prevented her mind from spiraling out of control, as it was prone to recently.

Unfortunately, in the moments before her regeneration cycle, certain thoughts could not be avoided.

The Doctor had chided her on numerous occasions about "bottling" her emotions; she was perfectly aware of the effects this coping mechanism produced. But she could not think of another strategy for dealing with her feelings in this situation. Consequently, she periodically experienced an emotional overflow that the Doctor had also described…which was particularly distressing. Yesterday, in the mess hall, she had nearly—

"Janeway to Seven of Nine."

Dropping her thoughts, Seven glanced at the chronometer. It was late.

"Go ahead, Captain." She kept her tone smooth and professional as she stood near the console in Cargo Bay 2, waiting.

The Captain's clipped instructions came. "I need to speak with you. Report directly to my quarters. Janeway out."

Seven felt uneasy, and with good reason: the sound of phaser fire would have been kinder than Janeway's tone of voice.

She arrived at the Captain's quarters several minutes later, feeling her heart rate increase as she paused at the door. She pressed the chime and waited for permission to enter, attempting to arrange her thoughts in a way that would allow her to withstand another reprimand without cracking under pressure.

Janeway called for Seven to come in and immediately shot a steely glance in her direction.

"Sit."

Her body tingled as she obeyed.

"What the hell is this I'm hearing from Tom Paris?"

Ignoring the familiar electricity jumping across her body, Seven regarded Janeway placidly. "Please clarify, Captain," she requested. It was a thinly-veiled attempt to stave off questioning for as long as possible.

"Don't, Seven. Mr. Paris informed me that you nearly decked B'Elanna in the mess during lunch yesterday. Explain yourself."

Seven almost smiled, experiencing a feeling she wouldn't have been able to recognize even a short while ago: bitterness. She could now recognize it immediately.

_Explain what?_

That bitterness? Hopelessness? Shame? Regret? She had researched and explored these emotions. And more.

Explain this situation? How would the Captain propose she provide an explanation without detonating an emotional proton torpedo?

"Seven, I've let a lot of things slide. I've given you the benefit of the doubt. Your recent irritability, flagrant disregard for the Doctor's medical advice, recklessness in the Holodeck, and problems socializing with the crew are becoming an issue for everyone on board. This has been going on for weeks now and I need to know why."

_Me too._

As per her nature, she'd already meticulously considered the angles. She constructed explanations, tried them, and consistently rejected what she composed, because an unanswerable question still remained. How do you explain a mundane moment that suddenly becomes suffused with more beauty and meaning than it should logically have? Where does that process originate from? Why does it happen?

Why do people fall in love?

"Seven?"

The blonde swallowed, unable to broach the subject.

"I require some water." She rose suddenly and moved to Janeways' replicator.

The distance was a blessing, allowing Seven to focus on something other than the sweet sharpness in Janeway's eyes, the coarse sound of her voice, and the noise of her own thoughts. She half-turned and drank thirstily, not daring to move back to where Janeway sat, observing her gulp the liquid.

"Clearly there's something going on in your head, Seven. I know you well enough to see that."

Pain flashed in her chest. Yes, Janeway knew her, and better than anyone. As the Captain pointed out, it was exponentially more difficult to conceal her emotions for that very reason.

The older woman's tone softened slightly as she changed tactics. "I'm worried about you. As your Captain and as your friend, I'm here to help you," she coaxed, slowly rising to move towards the blonde. "Please." The conflict on Seven's face drew her forward.

_Don't come closer._

Attempting to avoid the confrontation, Seven turned again to the replicator, urgently needing to order something.

Janeway saw through the ploy and moved to the wall, gazing intently at Seven's face. The ex-Borg's brow furrowed in concentration as she stared harder at the device.

"Seven, look at me."

"No." Her throat tightened as the emotion seeped from her heart. It flooded through the cracks of her protective shell and compromised her remaining willpower to avoid the subject. "I cannot," she insisted.

The Captain was incredulous. "What do you mean, you can't? Turn your head."

When the older woman's hands rose towards her, Seven crumbled instantly.

She swiftly turned to intercept the move and carefully placed her hands on the wall so that Janeway's thin frame was trapped between her arms. The other woman's hands were still raised near her face, frozen there in surprise. Seven was unable to hide the wanton edge in her eyes as she stared into Janeway's, mere inches away.

"This is what's wrong, Captain."

Her voice was so low that it verged on a whisper.

Shock registered across Janeway's features when she found herself looking at hard, fiery desire instead of the cool detachment she expected. She soberly searched her subordinate's face.

Although Seven's words were vague, the meaning in her eyes was unmistakable. Janeway hesitated, swallowing.

"Seven, I didn't realize…" She was at a momentary loss for how to respond, lowering her arms to her sides as Seven waited.

"I'm flattered that you would…think of me like that. Anyone aboard this ship would count themselves lucky to be with you. However..." She tried to lace her words with understanding. "Seven, I'm not a lesbian."

But as she endured the burning in Seven's eyes, her body locked between the taller woman's arms—so close she could smell her breath—her heart tripped over itself.

_That's beside the point._ That was nervousness about handling such an unusual situation. Anyone would feel nervous while having this type of personal conversation with a close friend. She tried to continue on. "I don't know how to say this gently. I'm only interested in men…I've always dated men, I don't see women in a romantic or sexual way."

And yet she was forcing her breathing as she studied the younger woman. And yet she suddenly felt weak under Seven's open gaze.

Heart stumbling again, she found herself doubting her own words.

Seven latched onto the gap. Fueled by instinct—that she hadn't been imagining things, that the chemistry she felt with Janeway was real—she kept her focus and used logic to parry the Captain's reply.

"If you object, why are you continuing to stand in such close proximity to me? Why are you giving me tacit approval by allowing me to keep you here?"

As she considered, a sliver of fear appeared in Kathryn Janeway's eyes. It occupied the space next to denial.

"Seven, you're my friend and subordinate—"

"No," the younger woman interrupted, fighting against such safe classification. "Do not reduce me. I am a human being trying to explain that I have—I've developed—"

She broke off when Janeway's face betrayed anticipation.

As if dust had been wiped from a mirror, Seven understood.

_She feels the same._

Janeway saw the ex-Borg's expression clear and immediately reached up to force Seven backwards, but she was too late.

The blonde simply moved in, dropped her hands lower on the wall, and, being stronger than the older woman, held them there with her body. Defiant, the Captain still firmly gripped her shoulders.

_She's afraid to…_

The blonde's eyes lingered on Janeway's lips for a moment, and then returned to her eyes. Janeway watched her, breathing tightly. Paralyzed, staring at each other, they stood in the starlight for several tense seconds.

Seven finally bent in slowly, determined to kiss _Voyager_'s captain—because despite a refusal in words, she had telegraphed the reverse with her body.

Janeway's first impulse was to recoil, to wrangle away, but a storm of butterflies exploded when their lips met and prevented her from moving. A chill ran down her back and generated heat as it descended. For a moment, she was too overwhelmed to do anything at all.

A soft body pressed to hers, full lips easily moving against hers…was it really possible that she could enjoy this?

To her surprise, she began to experimentally return the kiss. Seven's emotions intensified and guided the younger woman as she kissed her superior more deeply. Her inexperience disappeared. She held the Captain, pressing her fingers to the Starfleet jacket so that she could find the shorter woman's body.

As desire ate away at fear, Janeway's hands slid from Seven's shoulders to her neck and face, gently pulling her closer. Feelings she had never recognized until now abruptly appeared coherently in context.

She loved Seven of Nine.

These hands touching her so lightly belonged to someone who knew her and valued her as more than a captain. Someone who challenged her but could also make her smile. Someone she had invested so much of her energy into teaching and getting to know.

Was it really a surprise that she would fall in love someone as talented, as beautiful, as frustrating as Seven? She pulled away to look at her Astrometrics officer.

_Not surprising at all._

There were other problems that needed solving, of course—heavy questions of duty and ethics—but in that moment, the only thing that mattered was appreciating the awakening itself.

She smiled. If this was love, it changed everything.

**=A=**

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><p><strong>=A=<strong>_  
><em>

_you stand on your own __through life_

_and never __look down or_

_think about it twice._

_for all that we can't define_

_is simple and free_

_and yours and mine, so..._

_awaken_

_your heart, your mind_

_don't let_

_it slip by you_

=**A=**

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><p><strong>AN3:** Thanks for reading until the end. Feedback/reviews are welcome and appreciated. :) I'm worried that I did not develop the beginning of the story well enough to support its conclusion—if so, let me know. I can rework it and add detail to make the ending more believable. If there's anything you particularly enjoyed, feel free to share that as well. I hope you liked it.

I'm currently developing the plot for a new J/7 story; without giving much away, looks like it will be a multi-chapter, post-Endgame work. :) I've drawn from several songs, my own ideas, and comments/reviews. I think the mark of a good fanfiction writer is the ability to construct a variety of plots with the same characters and make them believable, so that's what I'm always attempting to do.

And I confess that I've been completely, 100% converted to J/7. :)

**Final note: I don't quite understand why this story took so long to be uploaded; I've never had to wait ~7 hours for a story to appear. I know a few of you PMed asking about it after you were notified that a new story was up...sorry for the confusion. I thought that I somehow made a mistake in the upload process, or that the wifi went wonky, so I tried adding a ghost chapter and eventually re-uploading, but I guess it was just a matter of playing the waiting game. Sorry again.**


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